


Cookie Dough

by bluspirits



Series: Defensive Maneuvers [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Depression, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Ice Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluspirits/pseuds/bluspirits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what now?" Jessica asks sarcastically. "We braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?” </p><p>Matt grins. “I was thinking eat ice cream and talk about boys, but if you want me to braid your hair, we can do that too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie Dough

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place just a bit after Renter's Insurance and Rooftop Sitting, if anyone cares. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :D

Jessica stands outside Matt’s apartment at three in the afternoon, debating whether to knock. In the end, she decides against it. She doesn’t need to. He’ll be able to smell her, or hear her heartbeat, or something. He knows she’s standing out here. But she’ll give him the option to pretend he doesn’t and not let her in. 

She looks down at the files in her hand, a convenient excuse to visit a Matt who hadn’t shown up at the office that morning. Though she’s refusing to think of it as an excuse. She’s just here to bring him work that he left at the office. There is no other reason she’d find out where Matt lives and show up there, therefore, no excuse needed. 

Part of her doesn’t want him to open the door, because she doesn’t know whether she wants this to be just a quick handoff, or if she wants it to be longer. Like hanging out with him. She doesn’t know if either of them want that. 

She waits. He opens the door. 

“Hey, Jessica,” he says, sounding tired, and looking like he just got out of bed. 

“Murdock,” she says, slipping past him into the apartment. He doesn’t try to stop her. 

“Brought these for you.” she holds out the files and he reaches out to take them. 

“You haven’t been at the office,” she says after a bit of awkward silence. It’s not a question, but it’s still looking for some kind of response. He hums in agreement, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Why?” she asks, voice hard. This one requires an answer. 

He shrugs. She understands.

“Well, glad we’ve cleared that up.” 

Jessica stares down at the floor of Matt’s apartment. Matt rubs the back of his neck. Neither say anything for a long moment. She doesn’t feel like she can leave, doesn’t quite feel like she wants to. 

“So what now?” Jessica asks, “We braid each other’s hair and talk about boys?” 

“I was thinking eat ice cream and talk about boys, but if you want me to braid your hair, we can do that too.” Matt smiles. 

She almost shakes her head and smiles, before the long pause makes her consider the fact that he might be serious. 

“I’m going to need a drink for this,” Jessica mutters to herself. 

“Just one drink?” he asks with a grin. The asshole is literally trying to drive her to drink. He walks to the kitchen of his apartment, drops the files on the counter and pulls a bottle of whiskey from somewhere. She takes it from him gratefully. 

“You’re a dick. And I’m not sharing.” she takes a long drink straight from the bottle. 

He pouts at her and she glares right back, hugging the bottle to her chest. 

“God. It’s like kicking a puppy,” she says, looking at his face, and holds out the bottle. 

He takes it and drinks. “Thank you.” 

“Well?” she asks. 

“What?” 

“I was promised ice cream,” she answers, tapping her foot to let him know she’s waiting. He laughs a little and walks to his fridge, opening the freezer and pulling out a quart sized tub of ice cream. She thinks that it's cookie dough flavor. 

“You’ve just had that in your fridge?” Jessica asks. Matt hasn’t struck her as the type of person who’d just have ice cream sitting around. More like the type who thinks eating sugar is weakness. And she doesn’t think she’s been that off in her judgement of him. 

“I was going to eat it all by myself, but now you’re here, so maybe I don’t have to be the friendless loser who eats a quart of ice cream alone in the dark.” 

He smiles, but there’s something in his voice that makes her think that he’s lying. And something that makes the words friendless loser raise alarm bells. Not for herself, though, or she’d be out of here in a second. But he’s not telling the truth about the ice cream, she’s sure of it. 

“No. You weren’t ever going to eat it by yourself.” she says slowly, thinking as she speaks, testing his response. She watches him grab spoons and set the ice cream down on his coffee table. “It wasn’t for you.”

And as far as she knows (and she knows a lot) the only other person he would have it for is standing in this room with him. She sighs, things sliding into place. “You were going to break into my apartment and leave me ice cream in my fridge like a creep, weren’t you?” 

“What? No!" he says quickly and completely unconvincingly. "That’s a lot of leaps there.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just waits him out. 

“I wasn’t. I can’t even get into your apartment.” he assures her, but it does nothing to convince her. She’s also sure now that he has some way of getting into her apartment, which is. Not a great thought. 

“Right. You are such a fucking liar,” she shakes her head, “Why would you even think I’d want ice cream anyway?” 

“You smell like it sometimes. On bad days. Like cookie dough ice cream and whiskey. You’ve had some bad days lately. I guess I just thought-” his voice is quieter now. He shrugs, “sorry.”

It sounds sincere, but more of a ‘sorry I got caught’ than a ‘sorry I almost did that’. 

“It’s a nice thought.” she admits slowly, eyes narrowed. “But creepy as fuck. And if I find you in my apartment without my permission, I will kill you.” 

She's serious. She needs that space private, can't let it be invaded like so many other places she cares about have been. Maybe one day she'll let him in there, but not today.

Matt does this a lot. Crosses her boundaries accidentally or with good intentions. She thinks that it’s something he does to everyone, not just to her. He either doesn’t see people’s boundaries, or doesn’t care about crossing them in an attempt to help someone. Whether that someone he’s trying to help is another person or himself depends on the moment. She doesn’t know if this trait, this habit of pushing people, is a good thing or not. 

And her boundaries are there for a reason. She can’t really decide if she needs to completely cut Matt out of her life or completely let him in. (she hopes there’s a middle ground they can find somewhere, but she doesn’t really think Matt does middle grounds)

“I could take you,” he tries a smile but falters. 

“No, you couldn’t, but it’s cute that you think so.” she says, with the tone of someone humoring a child. Matt gives her a slightly bitter half smile and shrugs. 

“I think you’d be surprised,” he says, facing away from her and pulling the lid off the ice cream carton. 

“Um. Super strength. I throw you through a wall and the fight’s pretty much over.” No matter how insane his senses are or how much ninja shit he knows, he can’t last that long against someone as strong as her, she’s sure of it. And she’s sure that’s not arrogance or anything. 

“Doesn’t matter how strong you are. I can take it.” he says easily, with complete confidence in his ability to get back up after being thrown through a wall. It doesn’t sound like posturing. It’s just an easy belief in his ability to take blows from someone who can punch through walls. 

Jessica stares at him for a minute. He’s never really truly been on the other end of her strength. Not in a real fight. The idea that he could stand up to it like that is insane. And stupid. It also seems to be leading towards a conversation about Matt’s weird pain tolerance and self destructive impulses. And that’s a conversation she’d like to avoid for now. 

She picks up a spoon and quickly shoves some ice cream in her mouth to avoid responding. It’s good ice cream, she’ll give him that. Soft, creamy vanilla with good sized chunks of cookie dough. His weird senses are good for something, apparently. 

“You mentioned braiding each other’s hair? I think mine’s too short, but,” he says like someone asking for something they know they’re not going to get, but still want enough to try. He smiles at her and she rolls her eyes. 

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head at the floor near where he’s standing.

She groans, but sits down on the floor. It can’t be that bad, right? And she can make sure he never tells anyone else about this. She’s just had a really shitty week, and she wants so bad to sit down on the floor and eat ice cream. 

He pushes the ice cream into her hands before sitting on the couch behind her. Matt runs his hand through her hair and begins to gently separate it into three sections. He moves slowly, not tugging or pulling on her scalp. 

She had thought this was mostly for him, that was how she had talked herself into it; that she was doing him a favor. She’d guess he’s a pretty tactile person, and more than a little touch starved. But it feels nice, it's relaxing for her too. 

She eats some more ice cream, takes some deep breaths and leans back closer to Matt’s fingers. The rhythm of one section of hair over the other is even and precise, and she’s sure Matt is timing it out, maybe to her heartbeat. She closes her eyes and eats another spoonful of ice cream, letting it melt in her mouth. 

“You want some?” she asks Matt. She doesn’t really want to share, but she also doesn’t want to eat an entire quart of ice cream herself. And she thinks it might be polite to ask. He got the other spoon out, but he hasn’t made any move to eat. 

“No. I don’t really like vanilla ice cream,” he says, moving another section of hair. 

Jessica eats some more to make up for Matt’s lack of help. 

“You seem happier,” she says, after a bit too much silence, trying not to sound too suspicious of the change. He’s started to speak a few times, probably to ask about her, and she’d like to cut that off. Talking about Matt seems like a good way to keep him from asking her about her problems.

“Oh, yeah. Life is a beautiful thing,” Matt agrees, sounding perfectly happy. 

She can’t turn around with his hands in her hair, but she thinks he’s smiling. She’s not buying it. She scoffs. 

“Matt.” 

“Hmm?” 

“You don’t have to pretend to be happy around me.” 

“I’m not pretending. I’ve been feeling better lately,” he says, and his fingers move a little faster. 

“Liar.” she looks down at the ice cream in her lap. It’s starting to melt a little bit. She drags her spoon through it, picking up a big chunk of cookie dough. “It’s a little insulting you thought I wouldn’t notice.” 

From how the fingers in her hair briefly shift upwards, she’s pretty sure he’s just shrugged again, for what must be the tenth time this night. “Sorry,” he says simply, and keeps working on her hair. After a few more seconds, she feels his fingers stop moving. She guesses he’s finished the braid and is holding the end pinched in between two fingers. 

She feels her hair shift as Matt moves behind her. A few seconds later, her hair is dropped, short braid gently hitting her back. He must have had a hair tie in his pocket for some reason. She reaches back and plays with the end of her new braid. 

“You just had a hair tie lying around?” she asks, not really expecting an answer. 

“Yeah. Had a friend with long hair. He’d leave them around.” Matt says, terse and obviously not wanting to talk more about this friend that he had. 

Jessica nods and eats some more ice cream. She’s not going to push. They both know the hair tie isn’t necessary. She’ll be leaving soon, no matter how much she stalls with the ice cream, and she won’t keep the braid in. They both know this is temporary, that it’s not a fix, but they sit there in silence, stretching the calm moment as long as they can. 

Matt traces his fingers down the braid a few times. Jessica closes her eyes and lets the cookie dough ice cream melt on her tongue. 

The moment shatters, Jessica closing back up, Matt itching to fight. 

Jessica leans forward and places the spoon and half finished ice cream on the table. She clenches her fists, sighs and stands. Matt stands up just after her. It's probably been twenty or thirty minutes, (she thinks Matt undid the braid a few times) but it feels like it's been much longer. She walks to the door, not saying anything, with Matt following behind her. 

She pulls the hair tie from the braid and runs her fingers through it, untangling his work. She shakes her head a bit, shifting her hair to erase the memory of the braid. 

“I’m not going to go outside like that,” she offers as she hands back the hair tie. He takes it and nods. For some reason, she hopes he’s not offended. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with a small smile, opening the door. “You know, we never got to talk about boys.” 

He’s smiling as he says this, and the fact that he says it while standing in the door tells her it isn’t a real invitation to stay. (she doesn't know if she wants it to be). He’s very clearly joking. Neither of them are interested in any kind of emotional conversation. They’ll calm each other down, they’ll help each other relax, they’ll understand each other without words, but it’s not sharing time. Not yet. 

“Yes. And we won’t tonight.” she says, firm but smiling. 

“You want the rest of the ice cream?” he asks, gesturing back at the carton on the table. 

“No, it’d all melt. Thanks,” and she doesn’t just mean for the ice cream. She means for all of this. For the ice cream, the quiet, the braid, the understanding. 

“You’d do the same for me,” he says simply with another shrug. He sounds so confident in this. It catches her off guard, surprises her, his quiet surety in her being there for him. He’s as sure of this as he was earlier of his ability to take a beating. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles and turns, trying to leave as soon as possible. She’s made it a yard or so down his hallway before she hears his voice again. 

“You’re strong, Jessica,” Matt calls after her, his version of a goodbye, and it follows her down the hallway. 

“Damn right, I’m strong,” she mutters like an affirmation, her hands forming fists.


End file.
